


Additional Seating

by reliquiaen



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reliquiaen/pseuds/reliquiaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: “okay i get that there are no seats left in this cafe but like i am trying to read here no you cannot have this chair my feet are using it thank you very much please get out of my face now” au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Additional Seating

At four in the afternoon, Clarke probably should not have been surprised to find her usual café _packed_ with people. Normally, she got out of the school right around three so she could beat the rush of people. But oh not today because _today_ she had to meet with that one impossible mother of that kid who was failing her art class. And honestly how do you even fail at art? It’s _art_. You can literally make up anything and apply it to your piece and get away with it as long as it looks like you’ve put ten seconds of thought into it.

So maybe congratulation to the kid for failing. Whatever. But his mother was this entitled bitch of a woman with her ‘I’d like to talk to your manager’ haircut and three inch manicure. She screeched like a banshee trying to explain away her son’s laziness and Clarke was about six thousand percent done with her day.

It wasn’t even a Friday yet. Only Wednesday. The joy of having two more days of work couldn’t possibly be summed up with mere words.

So given her frustrating afternoon, she figured she could hardly be blamed for the groan that escaped her when she realised how many people were crammed into her favourite coffee shop. The queue wasn’t ridiculous, she didn’t suppose, but after standing there for five minutes she was ready to leave.

Or at least sit down. All day on her feet, she just wanted to sit and enjoy a coffee before she went home to her marking. At least school finished in a few weeks. No more marking for two months then. Minimum.

Finally she stepped up to order and – given how slammed they looked – it was ready in surprisingly short time. Once she had her cup in her hand though, she glanced around the room. Not a single seat available.

Oh wait.

One seat.

Wearily, Clarke stepped over to the mostly vacant chair. It did have a pair of feet on it but she was sure any reasonable person would let her use it. Key word (apparently) being _reasonable_.

“Excuse me,” she began softly.

“No.” The woman replied without looking up from her book.

“No?” Clarke repeated, probably sounding stupid.

The woman sighed, tearing her tired green eyes away from her book to fix Clarke with a withering glare. “I have been on my feet all damn day and they’re _exhausted_. I just want to read a bit before home and my feet are using that chair so go away. Thank you.” And she returned her attention back to the page in her lap.

“Wow,” she breathed. “Just let me sit down? I’ve been dealing with moronic teenagers all day and I’m wiped. Please?”

Silence.

“For the love of… I will sit on your shins,” Clarke told her flatly.

More silence.

“Lift your feet up,” she exhaled.

The woman maintained her quiet. As she turned the page she grumbled, “Why are you still here?”

“Because I’m going to sit on that chair,” Clarke told her. “You can put your feet in my lap for all I care, but I’m sitting down.”

At that the woman looked up again, a smile tugging one corner of her mouth upwards. Her finger slipped between the pages of her book as she watched Clarke. “You’re determined, huh.”

“If you’d lived through my day,” she huffed, “you’d be determined too.”

Slowly, the woman lifted her feet off the chair. Clarke sank onto the seat carefully and when she’d settled herself, the feet previously resting there dropped into her lap. She smiled but didn’t protest. And upon realising she wasn’t going to complain, the woman’s smile curled higher.

“So how bad was your day?” the woman asked her.

“Ugh,” Clarke groaned again, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Worst day this semester. So this kid’s been failing my art class–”

“How do you fail art class?”

“No idea. But his mother is one of those,” Clarke coughed, putting on an affectedly irritating voice. “ _Precious little boys made of sunshine and candy who can do no wrong and are simply the greatest gift to the world_.” She huffed again. “So I’ve been sending emails to all the parents with kids not doing so well and for the most part they’re reasonable about it. Some kids have picked up their work. This one though, ugh she’s awful. She made an appointment to see me today and basically held me up for an hour telling me how terrible a teacher I must be.”

The woman nodded sympathetically. “He doesn’t do any work though, does he?”

“None! He just sits in class and plays games or scrolls his Facebook. But this bitch threatened my job today and I’m so done with her.” Clarke fumed silently for a moment before taking a deep breath. “So anyway. My day was shit. How was yours?”

She got a vague sort of shrug, the smile remained though. “Well no one threatened my job at least,” the woman told her happily. “I work several jobs to put myself through college though and I had a timetable clash today. So I was up at four this morning to make it to my fitness session before going to campus in time to submit an assignment, then go to a two hour lecture. Then I had to hustle across town to make it to an interview for the local paper and the guy waffled so that went long and then I was late to my tutorial this afternoon where I was doing a presentation worth forty percent of my grade. And by the time that got out it was nearly three and I hadn’t eaten but I didn’t have time for food because I had to stop by the office to pick up next week’s project.” She checked her watch. “And now it’s four and I haven’t eaten anything but a muffin since breakfast.”

“Holy shit, your day _sucked_ ,” Clarke breathed. “What do you do?”

She shrugged again. “I did a journalism course straight out of school but there aren’t reliable jobs there, yeah? So I followed it up with a course in personal training and now I sort of freelance for both of those while studying political science.”

“That’s amazing. Keeps you busy apparently.”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “No time for a life. Not even for food.”

Clarke laughed quietly for a moment and then frowned. “Yeah that’s not good for you. You should probably eat.”

“Probably. I’d have to stop at the grocery store though,” she mused. “I don’t have any food at home.”

Clarke slumped back into her seat. “God, me neither.”

Something flickered in the woman’s eyes then but before Clarke could identify it she asked, “How about we go out to dinner then?”

“Dinner?” Clarke blinked.

“Maybe it’ll make up for my rudeness earlier?”

After a beat, Clarke offered a bright smile. “Alright. I’d like that.” She extended a hand across the table. “Clarke.”

“Lexa,” the woman replied, shaking it. With that she took her feet off Clarke’s lap and stood, motioning for the door. “Just to clarify,” Lexa began as they left the café. “I completely meant this to be a date.”

“Oh yeah,” Clarke laughed. “I got that.”

Lexa bobbed her head. “Just making sure.”

Clarke bumped her shoulder as they meandered down the sidewalk. “Maybe I’ll put my feet in your lap next time, huh?”

Lexa just laughed.


End file.
